


Begging

by merelysherlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Begging, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Eventual Smut, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nudity, Sherlock - Freeform, Smut, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:17:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelysherlocked/pseuds/merelysherlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes is a man that loves to text John Watson. John tries to tell Sherlock that he does not need to text him all the time, but Sherlock doesn't listen. After all, Sherlock is stubborn. So, while John is at work, Sherlock texts John. John thinks that Sherlock's just being his annoying self until Sherlock tells John that he, Sherlock Holmes, had a problem. A problem that only John could fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you enjoy this story!

**John. - SH**

 

**John, please come home. -SH**

 

**John, hurry up. -SH**

 

John shook his head and put his phone away. How could Sherlock _not_ understand that he couldn’t leave work right when he told him to? Sherlock had the tendency to text John nonstop while he was at work. He tried to tell the consulting detective that he couldn’t always _respond_ while he was working, but that never seemed to stop Sherlock. Sherlock seemed unfazed by John’s lack of responses. 

 

There was a knock on his office door, sending John out of his thoughts. He glanced up and saw his receptionist standing in the doorway. 

 

“John?” she asked. 

 

“Sorry.” He shut the drawer that he had put his phone in. “What is it?” 

 

“Your next patient is here.” 

 

John nodded, “Send them in.” 

 

His receptionist smiled and closed the door behind her as she left. John drummed his fingers along his desk, wondering how long it would be until he had another text from Sherlock. 

 

\-------------------------

 

A half an hour later, John’s mobile wouldn’t stop buzzing. He ran a hand down his face. _What the hell did Sherlock want?_ It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to him, he just didn’t understand _why_ Sherlock was insisting on talking to him when he knew that he was busy. Sighing, he pulled his mobile out of the drawer. 

 

**John. -SH**

 

John thought that that was the only text that Sherlock had sent while he was busy with his patient, but apparently he was wrong. He scrolled a bit more and saw another line of text. 

 

**John. Come home. I have a problem. -SH**

 

John rolled his eyes and quickly typed a message back to his annoying flatmate. 

 

**I am at work, Sherlock.   JW  
**

As expected, a reply came within seconds. John could image Sherlock laying on the couch with his feet propped up on the other side of it, his mobile resting in his slender fingers. He shook the image out of his head and focused on the message on the screen. 

 

**But I have a problem. -SH**

 

John was about to reply when another text popped up on the screen. 

 

**Before you ask me what the problem is, I figure I’ll just tell you what my ‘problem’ is. I took a nap because I was bored. I woke up to my body looking...odd. -SH**

 

John’s eyebrows furrowed. _What in the world was Sherlock talking about?_ He stared at his phone, dumbfounded. His phone buzzed again, sending John out of his thoughts. It was Sherlock, of course. 

 

**Think, John, think. -SH**

 

He bit his lip and _thought_ just like Sherlock wanted him to do. After several moments of thinking, his eyes widened. _Oh._ Sherlock’s “problem” suddenly became very, very, clear to the ex-army doctor. He texted Sherlock back. 

 

**Can’t you just handle that yourself?   JW**

 

His phone vibrated within seconds. 

 

**No, I can’t. I tried to fix it. Didn’t work. -SH**

 

John stared at his phone, his mouth hanging slightly opened. Sherlock, a genius, couldn’t solve _this_ problem? He let out a breath. 

 

**Yes, John, I cannot solve this problem.  -SH**

 

**That’s why I’m going to you for help. Please come home. -SH**

 

John ran a hand down his face. He still had four more patients; he couldn’t just close the office to help his flatmate. 

 

**Please, John. Help me. Please. -SH**

 

“Dammit.” John muttered. 

 

Sherlock was a very smart man. A very, very, smart man. Not only did he know facts that John would _never_ know, he also knew how to coax John into doing what he wanted. John was stubborn, but his resolves often broke down when Sherlock used the word “please” multiple times in the same sentence. Sherlock was not a man that used words like that, so, when he did, it took John completely off guard. He grabbed his coat and mobile. 

 

**On my way.    JW**

 

John tossed his mobile into his pocket and raced out of the clinic, telling his receptionist that an emergency came up. He slid off his coat and raced back to Baker Street, not entirely sure what was waiting for him at home. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes home to find Sherlock in the sitting room, in a rather interesting position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I hope that you enjoy this chapter!]

John rushed home as quickly as he could. He maneuvered through the people that were walking slowly on the sidewalk and tried to walk through as many flashing “Do not Walk” signs as he could without being hit by a car. He didn’t know _why_ he was so keen on getting home, especially since he was annoyed with Sherlock for texting him so many times, but he was. Maybe he wanted to get home so badly because part of him wanted to see Sherlock in a compromising position. Well, what he _hoped_ would be a compromising position. 

 

When he arrived at 221B, he raced up the stairs and opened the door. He barely got into the flat before he stopped in his tracks, his eyes glued to the detective that was curled up in a ball on the couch, his arse hanging off of the edge. John swallowed when he saw Sherlock reaching behind him, his arm moving in small, quick, movements. He was groaning softly and his normally pale face was bright red. 

 

“Sherlock?” He asked, blinking. 

 

Sherlock stopped and glanced towards the source of John’s voice. 

 

“Oh, John.” He said quietly. He removed his arm and wiped his fingers on his dressing gown that  was on the floor. “Please, help me.” He unfolded himself from his spot on the couch and stood up. John swallowed as his eyes quickly scanned Sherlock’s body. 

 

Now, John had seen Sherlock’s naked body a lot over the last few months, but he still wasn’t used to seeing it. One would think that he would have been used to it by now, since he saw Sherlock naked even _before_ they started dating, but he couldn’t get over how _beautiful_ Sherlock was. John had thought that other men were attractive before, but he never felt this way about one before. Not only was Sherlock someone that he found terribly interesting, he was beautiful as well. Sometimes he didn’t know how he could have ended up with someone as gorgeous as him. But, he didn’t want to question too much. He was perfectly fine with having this consulting detective as his boyfriend. 

 

“Why do I need to help you, Sherlock? This is a normal bodily response.” He said, his voice surprisingly even. 

 

“But _John,_ ” Sherlock whined. 

 

“But what?” He raised an eyebrow. 

 

“But you _know_ that I can’t do this without your help.” Sherlock blushed softly. 

 

John shrugged and sat down in his chair, refusing to say anything to that. Sherlock groaned and folded his arms over his chest. 

 

“Please, John.”  

 

John opened the newspaper that was laying on the arm of his chair. He acted as if he was reading it, but in truth, he wasn’t. Sherlock pursed his lips and got on all fours, not caring how it made him look. He crawled over to John and nudged his knee with his forehead. John didn’t respond at first, but after Sherlock nudged his knee a second time, he put down the paper and looked down at the detective. 

 

“Yes, Sherlock?” He said, smirking slightly.

Sherlock moved in between John’s knees and looked up at him. Small beads of sweat had clumped together on his forehead. 

 

“Please, John, I have a problem.” 

 

John leaned forward slightly, just enough to show Sherlock that he was listening. Sherlock sucked in a breath, knowing that John wanted him to keep talking. Wanted him to _explain_ to him what his problem was, even if John knew what it was. 

 

“I..” He swallowed when John’s gaze met his. “I have an erection, John, and I don’t know how to make it go away by myself. I...I need your help.”

 

John’s smirk grew a bit; he shifted in his seat to try to mask his own erection. 

 

“And how can I help you, Sherlock? How do you _want_ me to help you?” 

 

Sherlock placed his hands on John’s knees, drawing himself closer to him. 

 

“I want you to...I want you to suck me off.” He blushed deeply and looked away from John. 

 

John chuckled and touched Sherlock’s cheek, turning his head so he was looking at him. 

 

“Okay, Sherlock. I think I can help you. Go lay down on the bed.” He gestured towards Sherlock’s room. Sherlock nodded and crawled away from John, a small smile playing at his lips. John put the newspaper back on the arm of chair and followed Sherlock into his bedroom. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some teasing and pleasure ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Thank you for your support!]

When John entered the room, Sherlock was already laying on the bed, his legs spread slightly apart. John smirked, somewhat surprised by how quickly Sherlock had gotten into position. He walked over to the consulting detective and kneeled on the bed. Sherlock watched him with wide eyes. 

 

“John, please,” he murmured, gesturing to his erection. 

 

John raised an eyebrow.

 

“We’re in a hurry, huh?” 

 

Sherlock squirmed; he hated not being attended to. Especially when he was this turned on. He needed relief. He needed to feel John’s warm hands on him, or his warm, wet mouth, surrounding him. A small moan escaped him. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted. His mouth. His perfect, wet, mouth. 

 

He was rocketed out of his thoughts when he felt warm breath brush against his member, teasing it. John was leaning over him, his lips centimeters away from away from touching him. Sherlock swallowed and pushed his hips up. John backed away immediately and shook his head. 

 

“No.” He said tersely. 

 

“But Johnnn,” he whined, his face turning redder. “I...you said that you would help me.”

 

John chuckled.

 

“Yes, but in order for me to help you, you need to behave.” 

 

Sherlock nodded and went still. If there was anyone who could make the consulting detective behave, it was John Watson. Somehow, the ex-army doctor had weaseled his way into Sherlock’s cold heart, making him act in ways that he had deemed “silly” or “stupid” before he met him. 

 

“Okay, John...I’ll behave.” 

 

John grinned and gently licked Sherlock’s tip. The consulting detective arched his back and let out a small moan. Chuckling, John did it again. Sherlock moaned again and bucked his hips, pressing himself against John’s mouth. John shook his head and backed away. 

 

“No. You can make as much noise as you want...but do not move. Got it?” 

 

If someone had told John that Sherlock enjoyed being “put in line” a few months back, he would’ve laughed. John couldn’t imagine someone as controlling as Sherlock enjoying being put in line. However, he was very, very, wrong. While the consulting detective liked to control everything else, he seemed to like to relinquish a bit of control in the bedroom. Now, he didn’t always relinquish that control, but he did like to hand over the reigns to John occasionally, and allow him to boss him around. 

 

“Yes, John. I’m sorry.” 

 

John smiled and nodded. 

 

“Good.” 

 

He set back to work, teasing Sherlock with his tongue. Sherlock moaned loudly, but he managed to keep his hips still. After several minutes of being teased, a small sheen of sweat had appeared on Sherlock’s forehead. He cursed under his breath. 

 

“John, please....please take me into your mouth.” He begged, his eyes heavy-lidded. 

 

John glanced up at Sherlock. 

 

“Oh? You want me to do that?” 

 

“Yes, please, John.” 

 

Sherlock blushed slightly as John stared at him. Finally, after several moments, a small smile crossed the doctor’s face, and he took Sherlock into his mouth, not stopping until he couldn’t take any more in. Sherlock cried out in pleasure, getting what he had wanted for what seemed like hours. John worked him in his mouth until Sherlock was squirming. Sherlock told him to suck harder as he tugged on John’s hair. John hummed in affirmation and sucked harder. The consulting detective moaned John’s name loudly as he released into his mouth. 

 

After Sherlock was finished, John crawled up to Sherlock and pulled him into his arms. Sherlock curled up and planted a kiss on John’s chest. 

 

“Thank you, John.” 


End file.
